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About the Book
"Who Am I: Identity In Christ" by Jerry Bridges explores the concept of identity from a Christian perspective, emphasizing the importance of finding one's true identity in Christ rather than in the opinions of others or in worldly pursuits. Through biblical teachings and personal anecdotes, Bridges offers insight into how embracing our identity in Christ can lead to a life of purpose, fulfillment, and spiritual growth.
Jane Grey
Lady Jane Grey is one of the most romanticized monarchs of Tudor England. Her nine-day reign was an unsuccessful attempt to maintain Protestant rule. This challenge cost her the throne and her head.
Who Was Lady Jane Grey?
Lady Jane Grey's life began with promise and high expectations but ended tragically, due in part to the ambitions of her father and the religious strife of the times. The great-granddaughter of Henry VII, Grey was named the successor to Edward VI during a tumultuous competition for the throne. She was deposed as Queen of England by Mary Tudor on July 19, 1553 — nine days after accepting the crown. Grey was beheaded in London on February 12, 1554.
Early Life
Jane Grey was born in 1537, in Leicester, England, the oldest daughter of Henry Grey and Lady Frances Brandon and the great-granddaughter of Henry VII. Her parents saw to it that she received an excellent education, intended to make her a good match for the son of a well-positioned family. At the age of 10, Jane went to live with the conspiratorial Thomas Seymour, Edward VI’s uncle, who had only recently married Catherine Parr, the widow of Henry VIII. Jane was raised as a devout Protestant and proved to be an intelligent and engaged young woman, remaining close to Thomas Seymour and Catherine Parr until Parr’s death in childbirth in 1548. Seymour was executed for treason in 1549.
Arranged Marriage
Henry Grey, now Duke of Suffolk, introduced his beautiful and intelligent daughter Jane to the royal court in 1551. In order to consolidate his family’s power, Grey arranged for the marriage of two of his daughters to scions of two other prominent families. In a triple wedding in 1553, Jane married Lord Guildford Dudley, the son of the Duke of Northumberland, alongside the groom’s sister Katherine, who married Henry Hastings, heir to the Earl of Huntingdon. Jane Grey’s sister Catherine married the heir of the Earl of Pembroke in the same ceremony.
Background on England's State of Affairs
After Henry VIII’s death in 1547, his only male heir, Edward, assumed the throne. Sickly with tuberculosis and only 10 years old at the time of his coronation, Edward VI was easily manipulated by calculating individuals such as the fiercely Protestant John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, who acted as regent to the young king. By January 1553, it was clear Edward was dying, and Dudley was desperate to prevent the throne from passing to Edward’s half-sister, Mary Tudor, a devout Catholic. As the daughter of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon, Mary became a pawn in Henry’s quest for a male heir. Henry had divorced Catherine, declaring his marriage null because she was the former wife of his deceased brother. This also deemed Mary illegitimate in the eyes of the court.
Queen for Nine Days
In early 1553, John Dudley brought forth the same charge against Mary and convinced Edward to continue to support the Protestant Reformation by declaring Jane his successor. Edward VI died on July 6, 1553, and the 15-year-old Lady Jane Grey, somewhat reluctantly but dutifully, agreed to become Queen of England and was crowned four days later. However, she faced strong opposition from Mary Tudor and Parliament, both citing the 1544 Law of Succession, which clearly stated Mary should be queen. Public support for Jane’s rule evaporated when it was learned that the unpopular Dudley was behind the scheme.
With opposition mounting against Jane Grey, many of her supporters quickly abandoned her, including her father, who futilely attempted to save himself by supporting Mary as queen. The council didn't buy it and declared him a traitor. On July 19, 1553, Jane’s nine-day reign ended, and she was imprisoned in the Tower of London. John Dudley was condemned for high treason and executed on August 22. On November 13, Jane and her husband, Guildford Dudley, were likewise found guilty of treason and sentenced to death, but because of their youth and relative innocence, Queen Mary did not carry out the sentences.
Execution
Alas, Jane’s father, Henry Grey, sealed her fate and that of her husband when he joined Sir Thomas Wyatt’s insurrection against Mary after she announced, in September 1553, that she intended to marry Philip II of Spain. It didn’t help her cause when Jane condemned Mary’s reintroduction of the Catholic Mass to the Church. When Mary’s forces suppressed the revolt, she decided it best to eliminate all political opponents. On the morning of February 12, 1554, Jane watched from her cell window as her husband was sent to the executioner’s block. Two hours later she would meet the same fate. As she stood before the chopping block, she is believed to have stated that she recognized her act had violated the queen’s law, but that she was innocent before God.
Legacy
Lady Jane Grey has been viewed as a Protestant martyr for centuries, “the traitor-heroine” of the Reformation. Over the centuries, her tale has grown to legendary proportions in popular culture, through romantic biographies, novels, plays, paintings and films. Yet, her reign was so short, she had no impact on the arts, science or culture. No laws or shifts in policy were passed during her brief nine-day rule. Perhaps her youth and willingness to be of service to the ambitions of others for what she believed was the greater good is her most impressive legacy.
He Called Death Sweet Names
To me Erwin Rudolph will always be Dr. Rudolph. He was my professor and, when I was in college, I revered professors. But with all the reverence, he was a gentle rock of stability for this nervous, insecure sophomore, who that year — 1965 — declared an English major at Wheaton College. One of the reasons I was nervous and insecure was that I read so slowly. I knew I could not read a lot of long books in one semester, so I never took a lit class on “The Novel.” Instead I took poetry classes. That meant three classes with Dr. Rudolph: Pre-Renaissance, English Renaissance, and Eighteenth Century. In these classes, I did not have to read huge books. Instead I had to read poems really carefully — even memorize some. Dr. Rudolph required that we memorize and recite 42 lines of Chaucer in the original Middle English. This was terrifying to me. I was too nervous to speak in front of a whole class. Mercifully and patiently, Dr. Rudolph took the time to let me recite the lines to him alone in his office. He became my faculty adviser in the fall of 1965 and shepherded me through to graduation in the spring of 1968. I loved his classes. One reason is that he cared about substance, not just form. He cared about meaning and truth, great truth. To this day, the poets I love most (George Herbert, John Donne, Alexander Pope) are the ones who care about beauty and truth. Form and substance. Craft and content. I met these masters first in Dr. Rudolph’s classes. He awakened me to a world of truth and beauty in poetry which I did not know existed. I sought his counsel even after I left Wheaton. Although I sensed a vocational call to Scripture and went on to seminary after college, I was not sure if I could be a preacher, and I pondered for a year or two the serious possibility of following in Dr. Rudolph’s steps by getting a Ph.D. in English, and becoming a theologically serious English teacher. That didn’t happen. I think Dr. Rudolph was okay with that choice. His counsel was always balanced. He probably saw that my slow reading ability did not suit me well for an academic career in literature! My dominant memory of Dr. Rudolph is the one most relevant to his own death. Zeke, Dr. Rudolph’s son, was in my wife’s class at Wheaton, a year behind me. Zeke died of Multiple Sclerosis in August of 1969, three months after his graduation. I remember the very room I was in at my parents’ house when I read Dr. Rudolph’s tribute to Zeke. There was one immortal line that I have returned to again and again — as I return to it again now at Dr. Rudolph’s own death: “Near the end Zeke called death sweet names.” It has been almost 50 years, and I have not forgotten these words, nor the man who spoke them. I didn’t know Zeke. But I knew his father. And what an impact his farewell to his son had on me. It was full of sober sorrow in the face of the horrors of death, but also full of confidence that Zeke had not lived in vain, or died without hope. The same is true now for my professor, Dr. Rudolph. He did not live in vain. And he did not die without hope. Perhaps I should let him have the last word of triumph. In his book, Good-by, My Son , he wrote, We do not pretend to understand why God’s time-table differs so markedly from our own. But it was ours which was out of adjustment, not his. . . . I strongly affirm that belief in Divine Providence affords the Christian an undergirding he can ill afford to lose. I also discover that God may personally allow suffering to come upon us for reasons which please him. When he does, we ought not to demur, for God knows what is best for us. With deep love and appreciation, I say, Amen.